Poor Kid
by JuJuBe111
Summary: Why was Mystique so happy in the second movie, when the boy that she had practically raised was dead or severely injured? A Mort fic! It was gonna be a oneshot, but you changed my mind. You persuasive little devils, you! New name: the laws of transitivity
1. Chapter 1: A one shot

**Poor Kid...**

**Disclaimer: I don't own X-Men. Those stupid Marvel people have rightfully stolen it away from me.**

**A.N. I always wondered why Mystique looked so happy in the second movie when Mort, a kid she practically raised, was either dead or horribly injured. So I decided to write about her thoughts on his accident. My first one-shot!**

Logan walked into Ian's Bar- a popular mutant hang out- around eleven that night. He still couldn't figure out where Xavier hid his liquor. He grabbed a bar stool next to a blonde who looked like she'd had a few too many shots. Her head was resting on her arms, and her eyes were puffy from crying. "Gimme a Sam Adam's," he said.

"Logan?" said the woman next to him, "That you?"

"Do I know you?" he asked suspiciously. Her eyes went yellow. "Guess so. What've you been crying about? You look like shit."

"That weather bitch of yours _killed_ Mort!" She started crying again.

"The green guy? C'mon. He was just another assassin."

She grabbed his throat, but obviously lacked the capacity to do any damage. "I practically _raised_ that boy! He was eighteen you son of a bitch!" She fell back down to the bar. "I still remember the first day we picked him up. You think any of us had it rough? Damn he was fourteen and he could hardly stand up right."

"I had no idea." Logan had a feeling that Raven was a talkative drunk, and that he'd be hearing all about the little frog-boy. He made himself comfortable, and sipped on his beer, ready to get an earful.

"His parents were a couple of shits who couldn't love a green child, so they sent him to get beat within an inch of his life at an orphanage. The kid lived on the streets for two years with hardly anything to eat. Lying half-frozen in some godforsaken London gutter. He got beat by anti-mutant mobs all the time. I found him huddled against the radiator in a pub with three broke ribs, dislocated crap, nerve damage..." She trailed off for a second, then hugged herself as if he was there in her arms. "A fourteen year old kid in a terrorist group with a bunch of old people. Ha. You know that I had to teach him sex ed? I bought all the _Sex and Your Teenager_ books. He just looked at me with this look of utter horror. Fourteen years old and the kid had never heard a word about it! It's not like I had a choice. Sabe tried to show him some porn. Mort was locked in his room for a whole fucking week! Wouldn't talk to anyone. Then he was doing laundry and found a condom in Sabe's pocket. He asked me what it was!"

Logan looked at her with complete amusement written on his face. "Poor kid..."

"Mort never got into that stuff though. I have a little black light, and when it's my turn to clean, I check over their rooms. Sabe's room..." She shuddered. "Eww. Pyro's computer chair..." Her tongue went out. "Gross. But Mort's room was clean as a whistle! He'd always been really squeamish." She chuckled, "I suppose Victor scarred him pretty bad. Every once in a while, some passing chick in the Brotherhood would try to hit on him and he just blushed and walked away. Of course, if Wanda ever tried it ... let's just say he had a little thing for her. He would get all nervous and tongue-tied (A.N. wow! You really could tie his tongue!) whenever she walked in the room. For a while, she had this thing goin' on with Remy who was across the hall from him. In the middle of the night this one time, she tried to go into Remy's room, and got Mort's by accident. Mort almost died when he woke up to her slipping into bed with him. He was all over the walls, the ceiling. Completely flipped!" She sighed sadly at the memory. "After that, I decided to play a little prank on him. Most people don't know this, but Mort was horribly farsighted. He could barely see a thing without his goggles- too proud to wear glasses, too lazy to get contacts. So I sneak into his room in the dark of night, and of course he hears me, but he can't see me. So he starts freaking out with his whole 'who goes there' routine. I move a little more and he sets off! Bounding around the room like a madman. It was priceless." She started crying again. "I'm gonna miss pulling pranks on him!"

Logan patted her shoulder. He never knew that she had been so attached to the little hopper. "It'll be okay, Raven."

"No, it won't!" Mystique pounded a feeble fist into his chest. "When he was younger, I would pull pranks on him all the time. He worked on an image inducer for a while- he was quite the mechanic! You know he built our helicopter entirely out of washing machines? And he built that damned machine. Where was I?"

"He was working on an image inducer."

"Oh ya. So he goes to try it out and I stick it onto female. He screamed so loud... Heehee. I did that about five times before he figured out that it wasn't a glitch." The shape-shifter gave a small smile through her tears. "He was so talented. An extraordinary mechanic, and an even better fighter. You saw how he took on three X-Men at once! He said he could handle it! No question! I never should have listened to him. I wanted to send Avalanche with him, but nooooo he said..." She sobbed into the bar. "I was so stupid!"

Logan searched for words of consolation. "He looked like a good fighter."

"He always did preen before a fight. He'd get out his super gel and extra green dye. His hair isn't that green normally, you know. He'd put on all of the matching battle gear. Hell, he must have double-checked himself in the mirror ten times before we left!"

They both looked up at the TV at the same time when they started reporting on Liberty Island. A familiar green face flashed across the screen. Raven wailed. "Here it comes! Found dead in the Hudson!" Standing up with great difficulty, she turned away. "I can't watch. Poor kid..."

Logan watched the woman wobble into the bathroom, face swollen red with crying. "That poor, poor kid..."

The TV went on without relent. "...This man, identified as Mortimer Toynbee, alias Toad, has been directly connected with the happenings at Liberty Island. He has been sighted numerous times, and has been reported as severely injured, but still dangerous. He was last sighted in northern New York, staying to the trees. Officials are searching for him now."

He stood quickly, and slapped his money on the bar. From the bathroom, he could hear Raven puking her guts out. She'd be no help. Logan rushed out of the bar to Scott's motorcycle. Raven'd love him for this...

**See! I explained why Mystique was so obsessed with Wolverine in the second movie too! Please review 'cause it'll make me soooo happy!**


	2. Chapter 2: Or not

**Disclaimer: I don't own the X-Men, 'cause if I did, I would be rich. C'mon, do I look rich to you?**

**Well it was **_**supposed**_** to be a one shot- until I got a couple of people telling me to update. I figure that the customer's always right, so what the hell, eh?**

Chapter Two: You didn't think it was coming...

Scott Summer's motorcycle whirred down the road at a thrilling speed. If only Scott knew about it...

Logan was now up in northern New York, when he caught a faint whiff of something in the air that rushed past him. The bike slowed to a stop, and he climbed off of it. Sniffing the air, Wolverine let his animal instinct take over. There was something close by... not human, but almost. Stumbling through the woods for a few minutes, he finally heard the whine of shallow labored breathing.

"Huuuuuuuh," gasped something in the underbrush. Sure enough, there lie a short man, barely conscious, wheezing for his life.

Logan was afraid to touch him. Mortimer's skin was so blackened that it was hard to tell that he was green. Eyes rolled in the back of his head, the injured mutant gave no sign that he knew he had a visitor. "Hey, kid, I'm gonna get you out of here, alright? We're gonna get you some help."

Mort gave a few feeble attempts at speech, but was reluctant to let any part of his mouth touch another part, so they came out as whimpering moans. He rolled his head just enough so he wouldn't choke on his own vomit.

Logan waited for the poor guy to finish puking. _Poor kid... _"I'm gonna have to pick you up, and it's probably going to hurt." He bent down, and scooped mort up like you would a child, so as not to put pressure on his lungs. The groggy teenager took a sharp intake of breath, followed by silent tears of pain. "Let's got you home. Raven's been worried as hell about you..."

When he reached Scott's bike, Wolverine found himself in a dilemma. There was no way in hell that this kid would survive a ride on a motorcycle. He lay him carefully on his side so that he could puke without too much trouble.

Picking up the little phone on the bike, Logan called for someone. "Logan?" said Scott, "Where are you? And what are you doing with my bike?"

"Well that's the thing- I have an injured guy here, and I can't get him in on your bike. Do you think you could get out here with a car?"

"Sure. Who is it?"

"Just do it… And bring Jean, too. He's pretty bad."

l-l-l-

"What in the-" Scott got out of his blue beamer, and walked over to where Logan sat, rubbing a comforting hand on the back of a young man who was clearly in bad shape. "Is that one of the Brotherhood guys?"

"Mort Toynbee," answered Logan, "Toad."

"The guy who slimed me," said Jean, walking over to him, "He looks horrible,"

"Being struck by lighning and then being thrown into the Hudson tends to have that affect on people," he growled.

Toad retched again, moaned, and continued with his wheezing, tears once again slipping from his eyes. "He swallowed a lot of water. That's what's making him sick like that." She inspected his mouth. "Ooh."

"'Ooh' what?" asked Scott.

"His tongue- that's where he was struck. It must have burnt his lungs!" She looked into the unfortunate boy's face worridly. "Get him into the car. I can't treat him here."

As Logan and Scott loaded the crying young mutant into the back seat, Jean watched him with pure sympathy. _Poor kid..._

**So there it is! Chapter two! Tell me what you think or I'll use your eyeballs for foozeball!**


	3. Chapter 3: Yup, I lied!

**Disclaimer: Too lazy to come up with some snide comment about how I don't own the X-Men.**

**Alrighty, here it goes. You can thank my friend Erika for helping me decide which fic to update!**

Chapter 3: More Mort, Please!

Mort's POV

The pain was blinding. I had no control over myself. Someone was holding me up to their chest, and with each step they took, I felt my clothes rubbing against my stinging skin. The salt in my tears stung at my face. After they put me in a car, I slipped back into semi-consciousness, only aware of the pain.

l-l-l-

The first thing I was truly aware of, was a cool stinging at my face. I was concentrating on my breathing once I heard how truly ragged it was. "Huuh, ha, huuuuuuuuh." There was muttering above me, but I couldn't hear it over the din of my own breath. I found that the rubbing caused by my battle outfit was gone, and I could care less if I was lying around in my underwear. The cool tinge of metal was welcome to my singed back.

I struggled with opening my eyes for a while- my consciousness still weighted with the agony. Soon, though, the light shocked my eyes all the way open. I couldn't see the person who tended my wounds with such care. She was too close to me. Her face was a pale cream, and her hair a fiery red. The only thought that would come to mind when I tried to imagine who would take in someone like me was, _There is an angel standing there. God's sent me an angel._

I tried to gasp out the tune to "Jesus Loves Me". After all I'd done, the Lord still helped me. She let out a small laugh, and stepped back.

Jean's POV

Mort was in bad shape, no question about it. I dabbed some sterile saline on his face. I was nervous about putting medicine on his skin, as it was so sensitive. Chances were that the slime secreted by his skin would act as a natural ointment and would heal him. I had very little that I could do about his breathing until he woke up. Once he could function, I could get him to use an inhaler that could help to restore his breathing to normal.

Various people stopped in from time to time that night to see how the Brotherhood boy was doing- mostly Logan and Scott. I was furious to notice that Ororo hadn't come at all. Logan told me about his meeting with Mystique and that he would call her and inform her of Mort's whereabouts.

When we had arrived in front of the mansion that night, the professor already knew of our arrival, and had sent Kurt to assist us. He could carry him to the medical bay quickly, so that he would experience less discomfort. Even when he was unconscious, I don't think he stopped crying until I had been treating him for at least an hour. Logan was right- he was just a child.

As I cleaned the burns on his neck, Mort's bright yellow eyes snapped open. He looked at me curiously, and then a look of relaxation smoothed his features slightly. Through his ragged breaths, he managed to give out the tune to a song I could just recognize as "Jesus loves me, this I know, for the Bible tells me so..."

I smiled at that. The boy had just been struck by lightning, and all he could think was that God loved him. So sweet... Poor kid...

I shook my head, and turned to watch the professor enter. "He just woke up," I told him, though he already knew.

"Yes, I think I'll have a short talk with him." Xavier moved to the head of the table, and I listened in. _Hello, Mr. Toynbee. Do you know who I am?_

_God?_ thought a startled Mortimer.

_No, no. This is Charles Xavier._

_I'm sorry for what I did. I sinned, and I ask your forgiveness._

_This is not God, Mortimer._

_Hail Mary, full of grace..._

_Mortimer. Mortimer I need you to focus. This is Charles Xavier. You are at my school._

_Xavier's a git, but if you want me to be nice to him, Lord..._

_Mortimer! You are speaking to Professor Xavier! Do you understand?_

_I want Mystique._

_She should be coming tomorrow. For now, I need you to cooperate._

_I WANT MYSTIQUE!_

Xavier sighed. "He's not thinking straight, Jean."

"Of course he isn't. He's delirious. He's been struck by lightning," I snapped. The professor looked sheepish. "I'm sorry, Professor. I'm just angry about what she did to him, and I know it's stupid for me to feel sorry for him- he did try to kill me- but I had teammates. He was fighting three people by himself."

"I know, Jean. What Ororo did was without my authorization, and she will be reprimanded to fit her deed."

Mystique's POV

A loud ringing shocked me out of a cloudy sleep. The clock read 2:47. Who the hell would be calling at this time? I picked up the phone and croaked out a "Hello?"

"Mystique?" said a familiar voice on the other end.

"Logan! Do you know what time it is?"

"It's about Mort." My heart stopped. Mort?

"What... what about him?"

"He's here. Jean's treating him. I found him last night." I was about to tell him that I was on my way, but he anticipated me. "He's unconscious right now. It would be better for you to come in the morning when he's righter."

I thought I might cry with utter relief. "Shouldn't I come now... just for support? To be there? To see him? What if he wakes up in the night?"

"You just had enough liquor to tranquilize an elephant. You should sleep now." My head did ache like hell.

"Alright. I'll see you tomorrow, Logan."

We both hung up after short goodbyes. As I drifted back into the black that sleep brought, a simple star of hope and joy. _Mort. My little Mort's alive. He's alive, and lucky to be that. That poor kid..._

**So waddaya think? Tell me please!**


	4. Chapter 4: This might even be a long one

**Howdy people! I just got home and figured I'd torture you all with my obsessiveness once more. I LOVE YOU!**

**WHM Yayo: Thank you for humoring me.**

**Nighthowler: You are a persuasive little devil.**

**Bronzeiris: Yet another persuasive little devil. Then again, maybe she just didn't see the note about it being a one-shot.**

**Satyr: I think Mort was a bit too drunk on pain to put up much fight.**

**Crystalwish: I have a new word for you: Decaf... never drink it. I love you just how you are!**

**Gremblin: Yeah... I'm a failure with the whole one-shot concept. And I'm okay with that now. I'm a goin', I'm a goin'...**

**Pyromaniac: Dude, I love your name. Not because I like Pyro, but because I love fire. Heehee. Thanks for reviewin'!**

**Lisa: I'm pretty sure Mort'll be in X 3! And he does have such an amazing sense of humor. That's why we loves him!**

**April: OKAY.**

**Unvisted: I know! I'm now an official part of the Mort fan girl world- I've written a crippled pathetic Mort story!**

**DJ Atomica: He really is hot when he's all pathetic and broken, isn't he?**

**Fox of Midnight: Well I know that they aren't all straight evil. They all have really good reasons to hate people. You should read fics about Mort's childhood. So sad...**

**Hybrat: I do try... Glad you liked it!**

**Unnamed: ((Keeping going))**

**JennMel: Thankee, dearie.**

**The-Bee-Keeper: You're so lucky. I lost my sanity YEARS ago...**

**Salazar Vampiric Elf Luna Ash: You have a really long name.**

**Lalalala: Raven is Mystique's real name. You didn't really think someone would name their child 'Mystique', did you? That's just cruel!**

**Nyltiak: I must admit, I thought you might pee yourself at one point there.**

**I think Nyltiak's gonna hit me if I don't get to the story now! ONWARDS!**

Chapter 4: I just keep goin', don't I?

Mort's POV:

My head was wrapped in a thick fog, as if I'd been drinking all night. I smelled something burnt, and the bitter smell of medicine. There was an odd feeling in my arm. As soon as I had taken this in, I noticed the sharp pain in my chest with each breath I took. Time to dig up Brotherhood Training 101: Assess the situation.

I was in my underwear, which assumed that I was unarmed. I was laying on a flat metal thing, presumably a table. I hurt a hell of a lot, and was most likely unable to fight. Whoever else might be here, still probably thought I was asleep, as I've yet to open my eyes. What happened?

Liberty Island. I was fighting. The weather brat was at it. _"Do you know what happens to a Toad when it's struck by lightning?"_ Stupid line. Really, the worst yet. Oh, yes. What happened. I was in agony. Energy filling me. Dark. I vaguely recall stumbling on the shore, and moving as fast as I could. I was in horrible pain, but I just kept moving however I could. Then someone was above me. A man. He spoke, and carried me. More voices soon. Dark. An angel. The rest... a blur.

There was a noise from the right, and soon someone was grabbing hold of my arm. I opened my eyes fast, though it took a few seconds for me to squint out what was happening to my wrist. Some chick was injecting something into my wrist through an IV! I sat up quickly, and was about to jerk my arm away, but the pain of movement washed over me like a fire. I just stared in horror at Jean Grey as I felt tears forming at an exceptional rate. She reached a hand up, and brushed the moisture from my bottom lids.

"That wasn't so smart, Mort," she informed me, "While you're up, do you know how to use an inhaler?" I shook my head slowly, so it would hurt as little as possible. "I'll give you a puff, and you need to hold it in until I tell you to let it out." She pushed the inhaler between my lips, and I did as I was told.

A hand on my chest, and a hand on my back, she lowered me back down. It hurt almost as much as sitting up had. "The pain killers will kick in soon enough," Jean assured.

I felt like such a baby sitting here, crying, and especially in front of an X-man! You don't weep in front of your enemies! Then a thought hit me- I tried to kill this woman just a... day(?) ago! I'm bloody letting her put stuff in my veins! Am I a moron?

It took more effort than I'd imagined to force out a few words. My tongue stung like hell. "Ge'... away... from... wanna... ge'... ou'... of... 'ere..." I was pretty sure she got the idea.

"You're not going anywhere, Mort. You're hurt, and Magneto's in prison. Where would you go?" I struggled with an answer for a bit before her words reached me. The Brotherhood was gone. The X-men have me. There's no telling how long they'd keep me, or if they'd turn me in. I'd never see Mystique again. Mystique! She'd been fighting Wolverine! I had no way of knowing if she was alive. I saw in my head her lifeless battered corpse thrown carelessly into a shallow grave that kids would spit on. Tears pricked my eyes once more. I _never_ cried in front of people! Why couldn't I control my fucking emotions? I never cried in front of anyone but Mystique. What if I couldn't cry in front of her anymore? I felt a few hot drops slip from my eyes, down my face, and onto my ears. I looked at Dr. Grey, horribly aware of how exposed and weak I was.

Jean's POV:

He stared at me with his big bright eyes, tears running into his hair. He seemed to bare his soul to me in that one, mournful gaze. He looked so scared, like a child would. I had no idea what to say to this boy on my table. I knew that pain killers could make people emotional, but this one had every right to cry by my book. Poor kid... It just struck me so strongly that he did it in front of me. I stroked a couple of tears from his cheek with my thumb.

"Mort!" sounded an echoing voice from the doorway. The blue woman rushed in and to the young man's side. He gave a loud sob, and relief covered his face. "Mort, dear God, Mort! I thought you were dead!" She joined in on the tears. She kissed his head, and I watched awkwardly as the two sobbed and kissed and held each other. I had never known such emotions to come from Brotherhood members.

They parted after several minutes, and Mort choked out a sloppy, "Can... I... go... 'ome... now?"

Mystique shook her head, and ruffled his hair. "Mort, you need a real doctor. There's nobody at home to take care of you while I'm on business. You need to stay with Dr. Grey until you can move properly." He looked like he might cry again. "If it's all right, though, I'd like to stay here with you." She looked at me expectantly.

I nodded. "You're welcome here, Raven. It'll be at least another night or two before Mortimer can stay in a real room, but I'll try to find two empty rooms next to one another." From what I'd seen so far, they would want to be as close as possible.

I rung Professor Xavier on the intercom, and told him that Raven would be staying with Mort, and left the two to reunite.

Mystique's POV:

I have my Mort back. He's charred, and bruised, and broken, but he's here, and he's alive. My little Mortimer's alive!

**Mystique's a little OOC, but loving Mort can do that to a person. REVIEW! Or... I'll run you over with a banana!**


	5. Chapter 5: I think it will be

**MINI-STORY!**

**Once upon a time there was a man named Charles Xavier. He was a git. There was also a girl named JuJuBe who hated Charles very much. She killed him.**

**THE END.**

**I like that one. Nice plot, I say. Thanks to my reviewers!**

**Salazar Vampiric Elf Luna Ash: It's really annoying to write out your whole name.**

**Gremblin: I happen to like bananas! They're yummy!**

**Nyltiak: What the hell is the matter with bananas? (Spell bananas! B-A-N-A-N-A-S!)**

**DJ Atomica: Yeah, well Mort wasn't too pleased about the whole crying thing.**

**Mort: I would never cry in front of the X-Men!**

**Me: But you DID.**

**Mort: No I didn't! You're an idiot!**

**Me: That's it. You're paying for that in this chapter!**

**Dark Howler: Thanks!**

**Tame za shousetsu! That's Japakanese!**

Chapter 5: This is the fic that never ends...!

Mystique's POV:

Two days later, and Mort was able to stay in a room attatched to mine. We had to keep the door open most of the time, as he was incapable of most forms of movement. I was sitting in a chair in my room, reading about some generic hero who fought the bad guys and got the girl. It really annoyed me.

"Mystique!" called Mort from his bed. He still sounded like he was chewing cotton.

"Yes, Mort?" I answered, putting my book down.

"I gotta take a piss! Hewp me up, now, wouldja?"

I sighed, and walked over to his bed, and peeled the covers off, revealing _The Sex Pistols_ boxers. His skin was still blacker than skin had a right to be, but it was getting better. I sat him up veeeeeeeeeery slowly, with one hand on his chest, and one on his back like Jean had showed me, and he cringed hard. It took some time to get him standing, but we did it without tears for the second time. He leaned on me, and we staggered painstakingly to the bathroom.

This was what it was like for the next three days. He slept most of the time, and when he needed to eat or pee, I'd help him. My heart was breaking and repairing with each hour I spent helping him. I had my boy back, but it pained me to see him so helpless and vulnerable. The way that he was in too much pain to care that I had to bathe him. For someone as modest as him, this was something.

Soon enough, though, his bed rest was paying off. He could walk slowly with the aid of a cane, though it took me a while to battle his pride enough to get him to use it.

"Hey Mort!" I called to him.

"Wha'?"

"In celebration of your being able to eat solids, I thought we could eat in the cafeteria!" It was also in celebration of his being able to wear pants, but I thought I'd leave that out.

"Well I can't walk tha' well, you know..." he protested.

"That's what the cane is for, Mort."

"But... I don' wanna use the cane! Canes are for old men an' cripples!"

"And you, my friend, are a cripple. Now get some pants on, and use the fucking cane." I won, and he knew it.

We stepped out into the hotel-ish hallway. He didn't look so bad. Sure, his face was a bit ashen-colored, and his hair was a lighter shade of green, and his chest was a mass of black scars, but overall, he looked well for a guy who'd just been in an accident like he had. _Accident my ass._ _Shoot! I forgot his meds!_ "Hold on a second, Mort, I'm gonna run back to the rooms and get your lunch pills." He nodded, and I dashed back down the hall.

Mort's POV:

Mystique sprinted to the room and I looked down at my can with disgust. Stupid stick. Makes me look like a weakling! I leaned against a nearby door in frustration.

Behind the door I heard a voice that I recognized as the Professor's. It was not, however, the calm, knowledgeable tone that it usually gave off. No, as my eyes snapped open in horror, I distinctly heard moaning, grunting, and the calls of "Oh, Scott! Scott! Go faster now, Scott!". I let out a yelp of horror, spun around, lost my balance, and ended up on the floor, about to projectile vomit.

Mystique came back down the hall, and found me laying there, wide eyed. "Mort? What happened? Did you fall?" She rushed to help me up, and steady me back on my cane. At a loss for words, I merely pointed at the door. "The Professor's room?" I nodded. She reached over and knocked. "Professor?"

"Umm... Don't come in! I'm, ah, doing some neural projects, and, erm, can't be distracted!"

I shook my head, and began limping down the hall, mentally screaming to stop the disturbing noises from replaying in my head. I was thankful for the elevator downstairs, but once we entered the cafeteria, all of my gratefulness shriveled up, and died.

There she was. Storm.

**Suspeeeeeeeense! Sorry for anything odd I might have said. I'm on Benadryl right now and it makes me a little funny in the head. WHY DO THE HIVES ITCH SO? WHY?**


	6. Chapter 6: Yay long fics!

**So once again our delightful friend Nyltiak making me write against my will. She says she needs her angst fix. She's... umm... PERSUASIVE when she wants to be.**

**Mort: See! Isn't she SCARY?**

**Me: I SAID NOTHING OF THE SORT! I PROMISE, KIRA! IT WAS ALL HIM!**

**Mort: But... you just... DON'T HURT ME!**

**Me: SHUT UP! BE RESPECTFUL!**

**Nyltiak: Heeheehee!**

**So here we go!**

**Gremblin: Hives are gone! YAAY! Oh, and we all know it's true about Scott and X-head.**

**ToadMorty: NOT THE PLUSHIES! ANYTHING BUT THE PLUSHIES!**

**Nyltiak: I'm updating! Praise me!**

**Aan het etage! That's Dutch!**

Chapter 6: This fic is like the energizer bunny! It just keeps going and going and going...

Mystique's POV:

Jean smiled, unsure. The witch next to her avoided looking at him, which seemed to make him more mad than standing up and taunting him would have.

I put a hand on his shoulder to snap him out of his daze. "Don't worry. She's not going to hurt you."

"Damn right she's not gonna hurt me. She's no' gonna touch me. The bitch won' be livin' five seconds more," he growled.

"Stop that," I groaned.

"Stop wha'?"

"Making empty threats- it's unbecoming."

"It's no' an empty threat. I'm gonna kick tha' whore so hard tha' brains'll shoot outta 'er ears."

I stepped back, and looked him up and down exaggeratedly. "Then do it."

He hobbled over, leaning heavily on the cane for support, and stood up almost straight when he reached the table. It looked like it hurt. "Oy, bitch," he spat at her, "I oughtta kill you righ' now."

She looked at him him amusedly. Bitch. Normally I let him take the fall for his big-talking, but this was too painful to watch. I stepped over. "Mort, sit down, you're making an ass of yourself," I said loud enough for all of them to hear.

He stood looking at the chair as if he was about to sit down for a few seconds, then looked up at me, and I remembered that he needed help. Bending his stomach still hurt. He looked so embarrassed as I lowered him into the chair.

"It looks like you're feeling a little better, then, Mort?" asked Jean.

He glared at the table and muttered in a grumpy snarl, "Fine. Don' call me tha'."

She looked nervous. "I'm sorry. It's just that Mystique just- and I thought..."

"Don't worry about it, Jean," I assured her before elbowing Mort, "Nicer when he's delirious, isn't he? Just wait 'til you get him off the painkillers. He's just ponies and rainbows then."

He rolled his head towards me lazily. "I am sitting righ' 'ere, you know."

"Who could miss you?" sneered Storm.

His eyes fixed into a glare. "Guess I'm pretty obvious, huh? Ya know, I'd prolly miss you if it weren't for the bitch radiating off ya."

"I've yet to decide if the scars I left you are an improvement, frog."

Jean stood up. "Ororo! For heaven's sake!"

He kept at it, and I had no wish to stop him. "So why haven' you been sacked yet? Don't the X-ies have some rule about attempted murder?"

"I wasn't the only one trying to kill that night."

"Ah, bu' I'm no' in a non-violent pussy organization."

"If that's how you feel about it, I'm sure the Professor will arrange to have you returned to the pond you came from."

"Ororo, stop it!" ordered the red-head.

"Oh, I don' think your professor will be ready to come down for a while." What?

"And what is that supposed to mean?"

"Well him and his little fuck-toy, Scott seemed a bit preoccupied last time I checked." So THAT'S what happened in the hall!

"That's not funny," said Jean, suddenly joining the debate.

"It wasn' funny when I had to hear the whole fucking thing through the door."

"That's not funny!"

"You shoulda 'eard 'im. Groanin' like some sick animal. 'Scott! Oh Scott! Faster Scott!'" He started to laugh.

The red head stood up. "Shut up, Mort!"

"DON' CALL ME- ah!" He had stood up really fast, and now looked on the verge of tears or passing out. He slammed a hand into the table, and it shook with the force. He turned, and hobbled out of the room as fast as the cane would allow.

I glared at them both, and turned after him.

Mort's POV:

It's not _fair_! I just want to make her pay for what she did to me! I was used to being able to kick the living shyte out of anyone who dared cross me, but here I was. She was insulting me left and right and I was too weak to do anything about it. Not to mention that I was now depending upon the X-Men.

I thought I was going to be sick from the pain ripping through my abdomen. I was holding myself above the sink, trying not to watch myself sob in the mirror. It hurt so fucking much. Every time I did something like this it was like being hit all over again.

I pretended not to see Mystique come in behind me. She started to rub a hand over my back. What would I do without Mystique? I tried to stand up more so that I could talk to her properly, but a rush of pain fell through my gut. I puked into the sink. She ran a hand through my hair and waited for me to finish.

"I feel so pathetic," I confessed through new tears.

"You're used to being on top of your game. Now you're at your lowest in the hands of the enemy."

Her echoing voice soothed my shaking form. I looked at her in the mirror. "Thank you, Mystique."

She cocked her head. "For what?"

"Ever since I was a kid, you're the only one who ever took care of me. You're the only one who ever gave a damn."

She just smiled. It said more to me than anything else could. She opened one of the many pill bottles scattered over the counter, and gave me a little pink tablet. "Get some rest, Mort."

**((Sob)) Touching moment! Sorry, I need a second. ((Sob))**

**If you don't review, my cat will drop headless bunnies into your beds while you sleep.**


	7. Chapter 7: Running out of chapter names!

**So here it goes again. Yup. Fuuun stuff. By this time tomorrow, my hair will be purple! Yaay!**

**BeastBoyBlitz: Cookies! I think I love you! (Que: I think I love you! But what am I so afraid of?) Sentimental guys rock. (I take it you're a guy from the 'Boy' in your name. If not, I'm soooooorry.)**

**ToadMorty: You're kinda evil aren't you? You and your terrifying plushie army of doom. They's so spooooooooooky.**

**Gremblin: Of COURSE you don't like Storm! You're a cool person! And I love the relationship between Mort and Mystique because it's such a personal one. Nobody else gets to see that side of them.**

**Nyltiak: ((happy hand clapping)) Yay for the chainsaw! Revv it up!**

Chapter 7: If I knew where I was going with this fic, it might be shorter.

Jean's POV:

I watched Mortimer Toynbee limp out the door, and my jaw tightened. He couldn't be telling the truth, could he? He was just trying to get a rise out of us. _Scott always has been his favorite, _said a cruel voice in the back of my mind, _and he's hardly slept with you at all the past six months._

_Shut up! _I commanded my own mind.

"Idiot," hissed Ororo from behind me.

I glared at her long, and hard. What the hell was the matter with her? What happened to homo-superior? What happened to values and morals? Had all the X-Men gone to hell? Only one way to find out...

I raced up the stairs, sensing that the elevator was all the way in the lower levels. At the Professor's room, I felt nobody inside, so I clicked open the lock with a twitch of my mind.

Lord, it was true, wasn't it? There were clothes across the usually tidy floor. Large deposites of sticky gunk still clung to a pair of pinstriped khakis. How could he do that to me?

How could he _do_ _that to me?_ Two years I loved him and stayed by his side. Two years I put up with his jealousy and constantly guarded hero act. Two years and I find him sleeping with our teacher, our boss, and practically our surrogate father! HOW COULD HE DO THAT TO ME!

That pervert! That suck-up! Literally! That liar, and cheater! I turn and slam the door as hard as my mind can. The pictures down the hallway drop and shatter behind me at my bidding. Each door is opened and closed with tremendous force as I stomp down the hall. _SCOTT!_ I call out to him with my mind. He appears at the door to our room- _our _room- as I arrive there. "YOU SICK BASTARD!" I shriek at him forcefully, "YOU LYING PIG!" He's thrown back into the room.

"What! What did I-?" he stops when he sees the murder in my eyes, "I can explain, honey. Jeanny, I promise I never meant-" I don't want to hear his excuses, so I fling him further into the room. I pick him up, and bring him closer to me.

"After two years of being with me, if you decide that he's what you want, _take him._" His eyes go wide. "Get out of my room, and be with your precious Professor. Go be a little whore if you want, but don't you dare say you love me too!" I smacked him, and threw him out the door, soon followed and covered in his stuff. I imagine that he looked pleading beneath the visor as I slammed the door.


	8. Chapter 8: I'm bored!

**Okay, I've decided that I'm going to take this story through the second movie. Yay! I have a plot!**

**Gremblin: Ooh, we all knew that Scott was his little fuck toy. We just wouldn't admit it.**

Chapter 8: I think I know where I'm going! Yay!

Mort's POV:

Mystique decided it was time for us to go home. Jean had told us that I'd need at least another week, but with furious yellow eyes she had explained that being here would only make me sicker. She was shoving things into our bags, not caring about what was going in. I wouldn't be surprised if she accidentally packed some of the X-Men's things on accident. "So much for manner's, huh?" she grunted. I was propped up on the bed, while I watched her make war with the bags at my feet.I hadn't talked much since I woke up. Didn't really feel like it, I guess.

This whole thing- my helplessness, her anger- reminded me of when she found me. I'd just gotten caught by an anti-mutant gang, and the bartender at a mutant-friendly bar had dragged me inside to the radiator. She had walked in, and saw me right away. "Who's that?" she asked the bartender. I was shaking, and clinging to the rumbling machine like I was clinging to life. "Dunno," he said, "Just found 'im outside. Beat pretty bad. Gangs 'ere are nasty." I watched her through the corner of my eye, as she transformed to normal, and walked towards me. I didn't know what she wanted with me, and I started to shake even harder. Between my heart pulsing through every wound on my body, the room going out of focus, and the radiator shuddering beside me, I felt like a jackhammer. "Hello," she spoke softly, "who are you?" The echo in her voice was eerie, yet soothing. It bore itself down into me so that I thought I might cry. "Mortimer," I whispered. She reached a hand out, and touched my face. She had touched me- willingly. "Mortimer," she repeated, "What have they done to you?" I was a small boy, and dangerously thin, but still the ease with which she swept me into her arms was impressive. My ear was pressed against her breast bone, and I felt the vibrations as she calmly spoke to me: "Come with me, Mortimer. I'll take care of you."

Now, as I lay there watching her, I felt that once more she was taking me out of a hostile place, and into her warming arms to take care of me. Any second I knew that she was going to touch my face, and ask, "Mortimer, What have they done to you?"

Mystique zipped the bags forcefully, and tossed them by the door. She gave me my pills and a Dixie cup of water, and then helped me up gently. "C'mon, Mort. Time to go home." She flung open the door, and we paused.

"I'm afraid that Mr. Toynbee is in no condition to leave at the moment," said Professor Xavier, who was sitting outside the door, "Doctor Grey had expected him to stay another week at least."

"Get out of our way, Xavier," snarled Mystique, "I'm not keeping him here one minute longer."

"I understand that you don't have a high opinion of our institute; however, I cannot let you endanger Mr. Toynbee's health."

"Being here will endanger his health! You people will send him to an early grave!" she started to help me out the door, but the old man's wheelchair pulled into our path.

The man was really pissing me off. "Oy!" I shouted angrily, "Screw off, old man. Yer fuck toy, Scott'll be gettin' lonely about now."

Suddenly my chest got very tight, and I felt myself hiss in pain. "That is exceptionally disrespectful, Mr. Toynbee," he said in his usual calm state, but I could sense the malice beneath it, "If you continue to act with hostility, we may have to take into consideration where we house you."

The tranquilizer dart came out of nowhere, but was in Mystique's neck in an instant. They didn't need one for me, I knew. I braced myself for the pain that the ground would bring when they kicked my legs out from under me. The hands that picked me up were much gentler than they could have been.

"Sorry, kid," came Wolverine's gruff voice. The fall had knocked the wind out of me, so I could hardly wheeze in response.

He carried me like I weighed nothing, like Mystique had- to the basement, and the cells.

And I felt so pathetic.

**Did you like it? Hate it? I don't care! Review!**


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